Submission by tiffo-the-hippo. It’s contributions like this that keep this blog going - thanks!
It’s late. Two in the morning late. We’re on the couch, watching How I Met Your Mother. You’re in basketball shorts and a shirt, I’m in sweats. Your arm is around me, and I lean my head comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. We’re lying comfortably along the contours of the couch, and chuckling at the Bro Code that showed up on the screen. As a commercial starts, I begin to zone out.
Statistics say that this relationship won’t last. Who knows? Maybe statistics are right. We are quite young. Sure we can be reckless. And yeah, we fight. But for now, let’s just forget what statistics say. For now, let’s try to grow old together; oh what the hell, let’s just try to be together.
And I’m wondering. I’m wondering if you’ll still hold my hand through all the rough times, if you’ll still be here. If you’ll still be my world, my being, my other half. If you’ll truly be mine, and love me, “until death do us part.” And I wonder if we’ll be good and supportive parents for our beautiful children; if we’ll give them good books to read, piggyback rides, homework help, and enough laughs and wisdom to last them lifetimes. I wonder if we’ll see our grandchildren grow up, too. Will we grow old, raisiny, and wizened together, and still be in love like how we are now?
You nudge me awake and from my thoughts, you return me to the real world. You smile at me. “Do you wanna go to bed?” you ask. I return the smile sleepily and take your hand in mine, enjoying the feeling of our fingers intertwining. “Just…just stay with me, okay?” You nod and pull me closer to you, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. And I know, deep down, you want me to stay with you, too.
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